Damaged
by That Crazy Little Psychic
Summary: There was no big explosion. No evil scientists or Erasers or bad guys raining down to try and kill us. It wasn't the apocalypse or something equally as big. If it had been any of those, it might have been easier. However, it was none of those. No, it was simply a person who had drunk too much and thought they could drive. And now, my brother would never be the same.
1. Chapter 1

**So, this is my first fanfiction ever… I've read them for awhile, but never actually tried to write one. So, I really apologize if this completely sucks. I'm open to constructive criticism (as long as it's actually constructive!) So, uh here goes it :D**

**Also, I'd like to point out that I am not a doctor, but I do have a very large interest in neurology and psychology and have done quite a lot of research for this fic. I will try and keep everything as accurate as possible, however, if anyone that actually does know something about this stuff wants to step in and correct me or give me pointers, that would be amazing J**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride. **

There was no big explosion.

No evil scientists or Erasers or bad guys raining down to try and kill us.

It wasn't the apocalypse or something equally as big.

If it had been any of those, it might have been easier. However, it was none of those.

No, it was simply a person who had drunk too much and thought they could drive.

But, maybe I should back up and explain.

Well, it all started while the flock and I were staying with Dr. M for awhile. It had appeared that the School was going to be out of our lives forever and we were just trying to be relatively normal for awhile. It was odd, not having to be on the run from Whitecoats and Erasers. Almost surreal. I didn't know what to do with myself. None of us did. We couldn't live off of Dr. M forever, however, when I tried to suggest that the Flock and I find a safe-house, something similar to the E-Shaped House, she had a fit. So, no, moving out now was out of the question. I wasn't sure about starting school or whatever again, but I'd definitely considered having Dr. M enroll The Flock in school (if she hadn't already) so we could have an education. Hey, maybe we'd even go to college and get jobs! Because productive members of society. Or maybe not.

Anyhow, we were all sitting around the house, bored. It was getting late, but it was summer, so the sun was still out. In Arizona, though, that mostly meant that it was ridiculously hot outside.

"Maaaaax," Nudge whined. "It's so hot! I swear, I can feel myself sweating my makeup off. And I'm not even exercising or anything! I'm just sitting here. It should never be hot enough to sweat your makeup off while just sitting. How hot is it anyways? I feel like I'm dying-"

Fang covered her mouth up with his hand and she fell silent, looking irritated at being cut off mid-rant.

"She has a point," the Gasman spoke up from where he was sitting. "It's too hot to just sit here! I feel like I'm cooking. Literally. Can we, like, go get ice-cream or something?"

I thought about it for a moment, considering saying no, before smiling. "That's a good idea Gazzy. Ice-cream sounds awesome right now."

So, after asking Dr. M, gathering our money, and getting everyone's shoes on, we were finally ready to go.

The ice-cream place wasn't very far and only took about ten minutes to walk, too. It was small, with only a counter that had all the icecreams behind it where the employees stood and maybe 2 tables inside. But that was okay, but most people only got they're ice-cream and left.

Everyone in the Flock got a large triple scoop icecream, while Ella had a single scoop.

I always got Rocky Road.

Fang got Mint Chocolate Chip.

Iggy had chocolate. (I always told him that was boring, but he said it was a classic for a reason.)

Ella got chocolate chip cookie dough.

Nudge had Rainbow Sherbet.

Gazzy got Cookies 'n Cream.

Angel got strawberry.

It was always the exact same. Always. And this time was no different. Everyone ordered their ice-cream of choice (and the employee and tried to explain that a large cone with three scoops was a lot of food, and maybe we should get something smaller) and we were on our way.

We slowly meandered our way back towards Dr. M's house, laughing and joking around as per usual. Well, until _it _happened.

I hadn't been paying close enough attention. Had I been looking closer, this wouldn't have happened. Everything would be okay. I was the leader, it was my job to notice things like this.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself again.

Where was I?

Oh, yeah. We were walking, when Iggy suddenly stopped and cocked his head to his side, making his classic, 'I hear something weird, please shut up everyone because something's about to go down' expression that lasted maybe a split second, before a look of horror overcame his face.

"Angel!" he yelled, sprinting forwards faster than I could see. And I suddenly saw why he'd screamed. Angel, sweet innocent Angel holding her pink ice-cream cone and Celeste, was walking across the middle of the street, with a speeding, swerving car headed straight for her. Iggy grabbed and literally threw her out of the way, however, wasn't able to get out of the way himself.

There was a sickening thud as he fell backwards and everything seemed to move in slow motion. The tires of the car made horrible screeching noise and it skidded to a stop after the car had already hit Iggy's body, Angel was screaming bloody murder, and Iggy was falling backwards. He hit the ground hard, his head bouncing twice when it hit the ground. As if the sound of Iggy's skull and pavement meeting pulled us all out of reveries, everyone ran to him.

"Iggy!" Angel was screaming. "Iggy! I'm so sorry! Please, please, please wake up!"

"That's a lot of blood," Gazzy said, looking at his big brother.

I was staring in shock when Fang answered. "Head wounds bleed a lot little buddy. He'll be okay." He shot me a look, though, that said he wasn't so sure. It _was _a lot of blood. More than any of us had seen before. And that was saying something.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod," the driver of the car was saying over and over again as she got and ran to Iggy's side. I glared at the moron, clearly letting her know that she wasn't getting close to my brother.

"He'll be okay," Nudge said. "Right Max? I mean, we'll get him back to Dr. M and she'll fix him right up. You and Fang can carry him and everything will be a-okay. Right Max?"

Fang shook his head slowly. "No, I don't think so."

"What?" Gazzy demanded, looking up at us with tear-filled eyes. "You're kidding, right? Iggy will be okay. Don't say stuff like that Fang!"

"No, Gaz, that's not what he meant," I said gently to my little trooper. "I'm sure Iggy will be fine. He's made of tough stuff. But, he hit his head pretty hard and head wounds are nothing to mess around with. I think we need a hospital this time." As much as I hated it, it was true. It's not that I didn't trust that Dr. M would be able to stich him up again, there could be so much more wrong. Moving someone with a possible head or neck injury was a no-no. So, I guess that begs the question, why were none of us calling 911.

Mostly because the jackass (and please excuse my language, but I feel it's acceptable right now) was already doing that. I could hear her crying into the phone to the operator, and had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. This was her fault. She hit my brother with a car and was acting all sad now.

"I'm so so so sorry," she said, when she was done. "I-I never, I mean. Oh god, is he okay?" She knelt down next to me, looking at Iggy.

That's when I smelled the alcohol on her breath.

She got drunk and thought it was a good idea to get behind the wheel of a car and now my brother was badly hurt. She seemed sober now, but I'd bet it was the adrenaline.

"I don't know lady," I growled at her. "He was hit by a drunk woman driving a fucking car. Nothing about this is okay!"

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered, crying and I felt kinda bad about yelling at her. I mean, at least she felt like shit. However, as soon as I looked at the red all around Iggy's head, that guilt. "I'll cover all the medical bills and whatever I need. Oh, let me go get my insurance information. Oh my god, I'm soooooo sorry!"

Ella stood to the side, looking positively green. "I, I'm just gonna call my mom and tell her what's happening."

Within minutes we heard the sirens of an ambulance and a police car roaring down the road towards us. It stopped right next to the accident, and two EMTs rushed out of the ambulance, before bending down next to Iggy with a stretcher, while the police man got out and started talking to the woman about what had happened.

They took one look at the blood rushing out of his head and grabbed the neck brace, too, before very very carefully placing him on the stretcher and securing him very tightly.

"Did anyone touch or move him before we got here?" one of the EMTs asked, while rolling Iggy over to the ambulance.

"No."

"Where are your parents?"

"Our mom's at home, but my sister's calling her. I can tell her to meet us at the hospital. Which hospital are we going to anyways?"

"Promise Hospital on E 6th Street."

Ella heard and relayed it to Dr. M.

"We can only allow one ride-along…" the EMT said, looking around at us.

"You go," Fang said to me. "I'll stay with the kids and wait for doc- uh, _mom, _to pick us up. And answer the police man's questions."

I nodded, before hopping up in the ambulance as it took off down the road. They were attaching Iggy to all kinds of machines and checking out his injuries.

"Ribs 3 through 6 on the right cracked-"

"Compound fracture of the ulna-"

"Severe bleeding from the head. Possible fractured skull-"

"He's fibrillating! Get me the paddles!"

"Wait! No!" I said, standing up. "He's not. He has a, uh, heart disorder. It's always like that!"

"No heart disorder should make his heart sound like that."

I sighed. I'd really hoped we wouldn't have to go through this mess again. I partially unfolded my wings from my back, not all the way because of the cramped quarters.

"My brother has wings and avian DNA, too," I told them. "So, our hearts beat a lot faster than normal human's do."

The EMTs looked shocked for a moment, before nodding, dumbfounded, and continuing their work. Good. They needed to be focusing on making Iggy better, not how weird it was that we had wings.

Soon, we'd arrived at the hospital and everything was moving faster than I could keep track of. However, I was asked to stay with the doctor's as the rushed Iggy into the ER where the trauma surgeons took over. A lot of it was just like a repeat of what happened when Fang had been injured and in the hospital; I gave lots of blood and explained our anatomy, while the doctor's worked on stitching up the major wounds and setting his bones.

Dr. M and the rest of the Flock arrived pretty quickly and I realized that Dr. M must have hauled ass to get here that fast. Fang came over to where I was standing and talked to the doctor, before donating some of his own blood to the cause.

He was moved out of the emergency room and into a normal room pretty quickly. It wasn't even ICU because they said he was stable and the main thing to keep an eye on was his ribs, but they'd been set and shouldn't pose any risk of puncturing a lung anymore. Still, better safe than sorry.

On the bright side, though, there were no FBI agents this time. But, I'd take any amount of having to talk to FBI agents over Iggy being in such a horrible state. He was still unconscious, though, which was really starting to make me nervous.

We all sat in the room with Iggy for awhile (and the only reason we were all allowed in was Dr. M's scary mom look. Seriously. I know where by bad-assery comes from now) before another doctor came in. This was a different doctor from earlier. I looked at his nametag, which read Peter W. Thomson, M.D, Neurologist.

I gulped. Now, I might not be the most well-educated, but I know that neuro means brain and when a brain doctor wants to talk about your brother with you, well, then it's okay to get nervous.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Thomson," he greeted with a small smile. "I'd just like to talk about Jeff's condition for a moment with you." We all looked up at him suspiciously. We, as a general rule, didn't trust anyone that wore a white coat. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yes, well, uh, Jeff's head got hit pretty bad and our biggest worry is brain damage-"

"Brain damage?!" I said, sitting up straight. "Wait, you think, he's brain damaged now?" I was having trouble coming up with words and from the looks the rest of the Flock was giving me, they were terrified, too.

"Maybe," the doc said. "However, brain damage is very unpredictable and we won't know the full extent until he wakes up. I would like to run a CT scan, though, to try and see if we can predict what, if anything is wrong."

I was tempted to yell at him to stay away from my Flock and that everything would be okay and we didn't need some doctor to tell us anything. But, I knew we did need some outside help, as much as I hated letting anyone near the Flock that didn't need to be.

I looked back at Dr. M, who began speaking to the doctor. "When would be the best time to schedule it?"

"Well," the doc said. "The machine is open now for a few hours, and I'd like to get it done as quickly as possible."

Dr. M nodded and within a few minutes, Iggy was being rolled out of the room, down the halls to the CT scan room. We followed, but weren't allowed inside. The radiation and all that. Iggy was the only one actually in the room with the machine, everyone else was behind a lead wall with a large panel and a good amount of controls.

Apparently CT Scans take a long frickin' time. Like, seriously. 30 minutes per scan and he wanted to take scans from a few various angles. But, finally, after what felt like forever, he was finally finished.

"It shouldn't take me very long to read the results," he answered, as Iggy was walked back to his room, still unconscious.

"Shouldn't he have woken up by now?" Gazzy asked nervously.

Dr. Thomson looked troubled for a moment, then said, "Some head injuries can cause unconsciousness for long periods of time. But, as I said, it's almost impossible to predict the results of a brain injury. In an hour or so, though, I should have the information from the CT analyzed and can explain it to you."

There was another 2 hours sitting with a deathly pale unconscious Iggy, surrounded by machines making all kinds of whirs and beeps that would annoy the heck out of Iggy with his hyper-sensitive hearing. He was wrapped up in all kinds of gauze, and I knew under that gauze were loads of stitched and stapled scratches.

He was so hurt looking. I'd never seen Iggy look this vulnerable. Ever. It was heartbreaking. I just wanted him to sit up and go, "Just kidding! It's all a joke!" Then, of course, I'd have to kick his ass and send him straight back to hospital. But, still. That would have been nice.

We sat for a good two and half hours until the door finally opened again. Angel and Gazzy had fallen asleep. Nudge looked about ready to pass out. Fang, Dr. M, Ella, and I were only still awake because we were chugging down bad hospital coffee like it was going out of style. It wasn't that it was even that late, just all the adrenaline from earlier was going away and everyone was crashing. Er, well, crashed in Gazzy and Angel (and Iggy's) case.

The ones of us that were awake crowded the doctor, ready for any information he could give. He pulled out the scans and placed them on a desk in the room. We gathered around the desk and looked.

"Remember that these cannot accurately predict any long or short term issues, but can tell us if we need to operate."

There didn't seem to be anything wrong with Iggy's brain from the scan I was looking at, however, I'm not a brain doctor. So, I don't know anything. The one we were looking at now was a side view.

"So, he seemed to have hit the back of his head, being that most of the damage is in the oppcipital lobe, which is actually rather fortunate-"

"How is that fortunate?" I demanded. "My brothers Opp-what-able lobe is damaged. That's not fortunate. But, uh, what does it do?"

"The oppcipital lobe controls sight," he said, looking at me after my outburst. "And being that he's blind, there shouldn't be too much damage from that."

Oh.

Still! I hate it when doctor's use the term fortunate or lucky. If I'm sitting in a hospital (unless there's a baby involved or something) I'm not lucky!

"There also seems to be some damage around the Broca's area, which will affect his speech, however, thankfully, the Wernicke's area is mostly intact, meaning he should be able to understand speech. The other major point of note is that most of the damage is on the left side of the brain, which means right side weakness. How severe that is, I don't know. But, from the looks of the CT scan, he shouldn't require any additional surgery. The prolonged unconsciousness is worrying. If he wakes up and one of you is here, make sure to call a nurse immediately and make sure he stays awake."

I nodded, having no plans to leave Iggy's side until everything was better.

"This might be a good time to go home and get some rest," the doctor suggested, before leaving to check up on his other patients.

"That might be a good idea," Dr. M said. "Everyone looks exhausted." I crossed my arms and stared stubbornly.

"I'm staying," I said, before sitting down. End of story. Goodbye.

Dr. M nodded, realizing that she would just be fighting a losing battle. "Okay. But I'm going to take the younger kids home. Ella, do you want to stay with me?"

Ella looked conflicted for a moment before I said, "We got this, Els. Go home and rest up. We'll call if there are any changes." She nodded and left, while Dr. M roused Gazzy and Angel, before herding the tired children out of the room. They were all too tired to protest.

Eventually leaving just me, Iggy, and Fang together.

Our first years in the school were always like this, just the three of us trying to survive. We were the Three Musketeers, even if Fang and I were bad about leaving Iggy out at times. Then, Nudge came and we had a little baby to take care of. Somewhere in there, Iggy lost his sight, making everything just that much harder to handle. But we did. We always survived and managed to thrive in a world that seemed to want to destroy us. Gazzy and Angel came along later. Gaz and Iggy were fast friends and everyone wanted to just pamper and protect Angel all the time.

I sighed deeply, looking sadly at Iggy, feeling incredibly responsible for his injuries. Fang appeared behind me right at that moment. "Try and get some sleep, Max. I'll keep an eye on Iggy." I thought about arguing, before just nodding and heading over to the couch thing in the hospital room. I didn't really want to sleep, I knew Fang would keep an eye on Iggy and I was no use if I was dead on my feet.

I woke the next morning feeling exhausted and realized Fang hadn't slept. I bullied him over onto the couch and made him get a Z's. He was sleeping when Dr. M showed up with the kids and Iggy was still unconscious.

And he stayed unconscious for the next 24 hours. Possibly the most terrifying 24 hours of my life. I'd never felt so useless in all my years on earth.

**So, uh, it's 5 in the morning and I apologize if the last part feels really rushed. I'm tired. *dies***


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys :D**

**I'd like to thank the 4 Guests and AngelicDevil101 for reviewing :D It means quite a bit to me. Thanks to everyone that is reading, and please review :D It encourages faster writing ;)**

When Iggy did finally wake up, it was, well, anticlimactic to say the least. I'd expected it to be like in the movies, where the character would sit up quickly and demand to know what was going on and where they were. But, no, it wasn't like that at all.

He began twitching and stirring a bit, just barely at first. His fingers twitched from where his pale hands were resting on top of the blankets and his head rolled. And, even with those so-tiny movements we normally wouldn't have paid any attention to at all, everyone immediately turned and stared intensely at Iggy.

"Iggy," I said quietly, kneeling next his bed as I waited for him to wake up. He groaned and turned his head, before opening his eyes. Not that it made much of a difference rather they were open or not, but his cloudy blue eyes were perhaps the most wonderful thing I'd ever seen.

"I-I'll get a doctor," Ella said. Oh, yeah. Doctors. Good idea. At least one of us was still capable of rational thought.

Iggy groaned again and tried to close his eyes, but I remembered the doctor's words about making sure he stayed awake and shook his shoulder to try and keep him conscious. "Iggy, keep your eyes open, please. You need to stay awake for awhile."

"Noooo," he said, sounding like Gazzy in the morning, childish voice and all. "T'red."

"Iggy, you have to stay awake," I said firmly.

He looked far above my head with tears in his eyes. "W-w-h're 'm I?" he asked quietly. "I-I don' u-unnerst'nd. Whas h-h-happenin'?"

I'd never seen Iggy look nearly this helpless and confused. Like a lost puppy.

"You're in the hospital Iggy. Don't you remember?" Nudge asked, wringing her hands. Wow. Such short sentences. Things really were bad.

"No," he said, looking confused. "Wha h-h-happen'? I t-t-tiiiirrrr'd." His stutter was really worrying. So was the childlike tone and mispronunciations. Oh, dear god, Jesus, Buddha, and anyone else up there _please _make this just be because he's out of it because he's been unconscious for over 24 hours. _Please!_

I was about to explain what had happened when Doctor Thomson came into the room with Ella. I was a bit confused as to why they sent Thomson rather than the other doctor on Iggy's case, but I wasn't overly concerned. I was just (for the first time ever) pleased to see a doctor. Even, though, I wished his coat wasn't white… why couldn't it be, like, blue or something? Why did it have to be white? Don't these people know that white stains really easy? Hmmm, someone should throw a red sock in on laundry day just so that he has to wear a pink lab coat instead of a white one. Pink would be a lot less intimidating….

Snap out of it Max! You're starting to sound like Nudge! Focus on Iggy!

Doc Thomson did some rather ordinary things it looked like, things you usually see nurses doing. Taking Iggy's blood pressure, pulse, etc. The whole time Iggy looked absolutely terrified. He was literally shaking and his eyes were incredibly wide.

Angel was standing next to the hospital bed with tears filling her wide blue eyes.

'_Angel,' _I thought. '_How is he?'_

'_I-it's bad, Max,' _she said. '_He's so confused. He can't comprehend what's going on and sounds like a little kid. There's something seriously wrong, Max.'_

I had no idea how to reply to that. I mean, how are you expected to explain to a mind reading seven year old that everything was going to be okay, even though you weren't really sure at all because your brother was hit by a fucking car, is already blind, and now might have a messed up brain?

Simple.

The same way you always comfort a child, mindreading or not. Lies. Lots and lots of lies. Well, so long as you can keep said mindreader from hearing that part.

'_It'll be okay, Ange. The doctor's going to help fix him. He'll be okay.'_

I could tell Angel didn't completely believe me, but she at least looked a little more comforted.

Iggy looked like he was becoming more and more nervous as the doctor worked and I felt tears start to sting behind my eyes. Damn it! No. I'm Maximum Freaking Ride. I don't cry. I took a deep breath, then walked stood next to Iggy's bed. I rested a hand on his head and gently stroked his strawberry-blonde hair and tried to whisper comforting words to him. "Shh, it's okay, Igs."

Iggy jumped when I touched him and looked so confused. "Wh-whooo's th-th're?" he asked, looking terrified. My heart sunk. He didn't recognize me. "Ma'?" he asked loudly. "Wh're's Ma'? I want Ma'!" And if my heart wasn't broken before, it most certainly was now, hearing my incredibly strong brother crying out for me.

"I-I'm right here, Igs," I said, cursing the crack in my voice.

Iggy seemed to relax almost immediately. "Ma'?" he asked again, looking so hopeful, still struggling with the "x" sound in my name. "Ma', wh-wh-wha' hhhha-happen'?"

I started to answer, when Dr. Thomson interrupted me. "Jeff, my name is Dr. Thomson and I want to ask you some questions, okay?"

Iggy looked around panicked for a moment. "Jeff? Who's J-J-Jeff? Ma'? W-wwwhere's Ma'?" he asked, looking incredibly innocent, asking if it was okay to answer the doctor I imagined.

Doctor Thomson looked up at me in confusion at Iggy's question. "Iggy is what Jeff goes by most of the time. His nickname." Then, I looked down at Iggy and addressed him. "Iggy. It's okay. Answer the doc's questions." For good measure, I shot the doctor a death-glare, warning him that he better not try anything that upsets Iggy or he'd have me to deal with.

"Iggy," the doctor started. "Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

Iggy's eyebrows came together in his thoughtful expression. "I-I th-th-think we w-were at D-Dr. Mmmmm's a-and-" he paused and frowned deeply for a moment before asking more than saying "ice cream? S-sssssomething about i-ice c-cream."

I was worried that he didn't remember the accident at all, but the doctor didn't look concerned. "Good, good job, Iggy," he praised. "That means there's not much memory loss."

"Mem'ry l-loss?" Iggy asked. "W-wwhy's is th-there mem'ry loss?"

"There was an accident, Iggy," I said gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Th-there was a car. A drunk driver. You were hit Iggy and you hit your head pretty hard."

At this point Iggy was rapidly shaking his head back and forth no, crying and saying, "No, no, no, no," over and over, and that's what finally made me cry.

"I'm going to take the kids downstairs to get lunch," I heard Fang said. I turned and looked at the kids and realized what a good idea that was. Angel was sobbing. Gazzy had tears spilling down his face even as he tried to hold them back and look tough. Nudge too was crying, but her expression was one of pure anger. Good girl. Ella was crying, too, and I could see tears making Dr. M's eyes shiny. Fang, well, to anyone else appeared his usual stoic self, but I could see the anger and hurt behind his eyes at losing his brother. I nodded at him and he led everyone outside the room.

"Wh-whhooo was tha'?" Iggy asked.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to try and stop my voice from shaking.

"Fang was talking, but the whole Flock, plus Dr. M and Ella were here." That's something that Iggy should have been able to recognize with no difficulty. Usually just someone being a room and breathing was enough information for Iggy to be able to recognize the person.

"Iggy," the doctor said. "Can I ask you to do a few more things for me?"

Iggy looked deeply scared and conflicted. "It's okay, Igs," I said. So, Iggy nodded shakily.

"Lift your arms up, please," the doctor asked. Iggy looked like he was concentrating very hard, as he lifted up his left arm. His right arm moved a few inches up, but for the most part stayed stationary.

"Okay, you can relax now," the doctor said. "Can you try lifting just your right arm this time?" Iggy got that real focused look again and tried to lift his arm, however, was not able to move it very far.

"That's about what I expected," the doctor said. "Most of the damage was to the left side of you brain, Iggy, so that means right-side weakness."

This went on for awhile, the doctor asking questions and having Iggy try things, until Iggy looked completely and totally emotionally exhausted.

"Okay, that's all for now," the doctor said, taking notes on his clipboard. Iggy nodded and I sighed in relief. That had been exhausting. "Max, if you'll follow me out into the hall I can give you my diagnosis."

I nodded, but didn't want to leave Iggy alone. So, I pulled out the cell-phone that Dr. M had insisted we all have for safety reasons and sent her a text, telling her we were done and she and the Flock should come back and sit with Iggy while I talked to the doc.

"So, what's up with him?" I asked when we were out of the room.

The doctor sighed. "Well, Iggy has what we refer to as closed severe TBI, which stands for Traumatic Brain Injury. It means that he has been affected by an outside force that moved the brain within the skull to cause severe damage."

'_Well, no, duh_,' I thought. '_I couldn't have told you that_.' I didn't say it though and just waited for the doc to continue.

"Most of the damage seems to be affecting his frontal lobe, which is extremely unfortunate. That's the part of the brain that deals with higher thinking and problem solving, along with being the most developed part of the human brain. His parietal lobe is also in pretty bad shape. It's what allows him to be able to comprehend sensations, main his spacial orientation, and also controls a good amount of speech. His temporal lobe doesn't seem to be to bad, in that he could hear and comprehend most of what we were telling him."

"Okay, so what does all that mean?" I asked impatiently. "How do we fix him?"

"Well, we can't 'fix' him," the doctor said. "We'll have him start seeing physical, speech, and occupational therapists to try and help him improve, however, I doubt he will ever really gain much of his independence back. I'd estimate him having the functionality of a 8 year old for the rest of his life, he'll have a lot of trouble taking in and remembering new information, and moving is going to be extraordinarily difficult. He's going to have to relearn how to navigate, balance, walk... well, everything. Being blind is going to put an even larger strain on that. To be completely honest, I highly doubt he's even going to be able to walk from room to room without help."

"So, that's it?" I asked, feeling angry. "There's nothing you can do?"

"I'm sorry," the doctor said. "There's not. The brain is still a mystery to us and there's no cure for brain damage. We can help him function as well as possible in day-to-day life, but there's nothing else to do. I'm sorry."

I looked back into the hospital room where the whole Flock was waiting and talking gently to Iggy. My brother was never going to be the same. Because of some jackass who was intoxicated and driving. I clenched my hands into fists. Maybe I couldn't help Iggy, but I could sure as hell make that lady pay.

**I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get out; I lost about half of it and had to rewrite the whole half, however, I hate rewriting things. So, it took me awhile to actually write it all out again . **

**Also, I'm not happy at all with how this one turned out :/ But, here it is :D Hopefully it's okay.**

**Oh! I'd also like to know if Iggy's speech is too difficult to read. I'm trying to make his impediment show through well, but I'm worried that I went a bit overboard and made it impossible to read :P **


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